young and beautiful
by paradises
Summary: And Massie's stumbling around the room, about to fall apart when she holds his cold hands and say, "I love you," and there's never going to be a reply but no, THIS CAN'T BE THE END— but she's the strong girl, not the one who falls in love; / massiederrick, massiejames friendship for rachel /


**sum | ** And Massie's stumbling around the room, about to fall apart when she holds his cold hands and say, "I love you," and there's never going to be a reply but no, THIS CAN'T BE THE END— but she's the strong girl, not the one who falls in love; / massiederrick, massiejames friendship for rachel /

**notes |** this is way too short to be good and i think that i need to get back on track for writing longer fics, but whenever i write longer fics barely anybody reads them because i think that i scare people with the length and my paragraphing, so i'm trying to make this an average length, around 2,600 words, (:

**dedication **| to the flawless rachel who's a perfect author and friend; hope you like this massington fic, (:

**.:young and beautiful:.  
**massiederrick

Once upon a time, they ruled the world.

Where they were respected, almost worshipped by their peers, and amidst the golden days, dancing under diamonds of the night sky, polite and cordial, and weren't they just the best at faking everything?

Because they really never were perfect, but slowly, under the pretense of it all, Massie knows that the popularity comes from Derrick, and without him she would just be nothing, that little fourth grader, a simple beta under the control of others, but because of him, she has power — so isn't that enough? They brush lips in the hallway, holding hands, and she can feel the eyes on her, in the spotlight.

Every girl wants to be her, and every guys wants to be her; there's always one girl like that in every high school, and everybody tells Massie how lucky she is to have such a loving, caring boyfriend like Derrick. They don't know anything, do they?

They don't know the truth; like the fact that he never remembers her birthday, and as soon as they're in public anymore, they act like strangers. And, for most part, all of these silly, little girls ( but once a time, darling, she was just like them ) wish that they had a life like this, this fake love for the popularity, but Massie's different and maybe it's perfect and fairytale-esque, but it's not love, and it's not what she wants from life.

High school is supposed to be a magical experience, the time of her life, and all Massie can think about is keeping Derrick interested in her; and all of her friends tell her that it's not really worth it, because sometimes, she seems him with other girls, under bleachers, on beaches, but she has to ignore the feeling in her stomach that this isn't right, none of this is worth it, is it?

But then, there are moments in public, like Homecoming, where Massie has all eyes on her, dancing with real diamonds upon her tangles of auburn hair, and he smiles at her, almost as if Derrick cares, and she falls in love with him all over again.

.

Then, suddenly, the Queen is nothing but the pretense of a childhood dream.

The only evidence left is pages of a scrapbook, fairytales written down at the age of nine, tucked underneath her bed, with teddy bears and stuffed animals and dolls and childhood dreams, turned to ashes, because darling, this is the real world, not her pretty fairytale utopia. Utopias don't exist for a reason.

Glossy eyes ransack torn sheets, droplets of blood still fresh upon the carpet, plaques engraved; there's a mere shadow of a child colored by differences and false assumptions, taking everything for granted — everything, just like usual. Dewdrops fly upon warm cheeks and hordes of sunken eyes, tarnished by crust formations, an everlasting insomnia formed; teeth grind upon one another, anything to feel pain, anything to be free.

But then again, what is life but something rehearsed? High school has long passed, and it's already college after a balmy summer, and Massie still pretends like she's the alpha, living life like she's in a play, but that's not the way the real world works. Glazed colors, bright lights taunting her, memories of a high school queen still dwindling in the back of her mind, and she has to move on from that world, and become anew.

Massie doesn't quite understand why the world is so happy. Nobody deserves to feel happy when she feels like she's dying, heart aching and pounding.

.

She meets a boy during the first week of college;

Apparently, her new posse of friends declare that James, that's his name — the cute boy with the British accent, and she starts disliking him heavily. He's the exact opposite of Derrick; caring, nice, worshipping the world that she walks on, and Massie can't help but think that it's not enough. It's never enough, because everybody always has flaws, but she needs more, she just needs him. She won't say his name. It hurts too much.

But, her friends set her up on a double date with James, and he sort of understands, pulling her to the side of the kitchen, while she's trying to cook some sort of insane meal, which tastes like mushy baby food. "I understand that you don't want to be here," James says, earnestly. "I don't want to be here, either."

Massie snorts, "Wait, you don't want to be here? Claire said that—"

"Claire's just interested in Josh," James rolls his eyes, "And I only came because Josh told me that I had to stop being a wimp about my ex girlfriend. I know that she broke up with me already five months ago, but I can't help but feel that she's going to come back to me, and fall in love with me all over again." Then, he smiles. "What's your story, then?"

She sighs, putting down the spoon, as if she was even doing any cooking in the first place. "It's going to take a lot more than one failed double date to get my backstory with Derr—_him_," she clears her throat. "Out of me."

"How about tomorrow? At the Cotton Club's cotillion?" He smiles, and Massie can't help but think that maybe some sort of college fling would be good for her; he's not exactly her definition of a fling, which is usually one of those hot reusable lifeguards, perfect Kleenex, but it doesn't really matter anymore. If nothing, she doesn't exactly have plans with any of her friends, who have gone to somewhere else than Brown ( technically, it's not even an Ivy, is it? ), and it'll be a perfect distraction.

Massie smiles back, "It's a deal, James—""Webster. James Webster."

"Well, James," Massie tilts her head slightly, "I'll see you at 12:00 promptly, tomorrow; you'll pick me up." She's walking up the staircase, all happy because things are getting back on track, "But don't even think of buying me as much as a corsage!"

He's already left by the time that Massie's upstairs, and she watches from the corner of her eye as her limousine exits her house, and she's about to fly when one of the photographs near the front of her room stands out. Massie walks over to the photograph slowly, and sees a picture of Derrick and her at a cotillion at high school, the firs time that she had been announced to society, at the age of fourteen.

She caresses the photo before thinking about ripping it to shreds, but she can't — not yet.

.

James shows up promptly at twelve o' clock and tells her that she looks beautiful, and it's all perfect; they drink champagne in the limo, and she's announced at the cotillion when she hears the voice — _his voice; _and promptly stops dancing, and excuses herself to the bathroom. Obviously, Massie's planning to spy on he who must not be named from the corner of her eye, while he's here, with, with his date. His date.

He's moved on, rather quickly; and not too far away either. Dylan Marvil. Massie's never felt more envious of this girl who used to be her best friend, but that was all the way back then, and all Massie can think about is how Derrick ruins everything, absolutely everything.

So, like any other self respecting girl who wants to show that she's moved on, Massie walks up right to James, and dances with him, continuing to have the time of her life. Derrick's not going to ruin everything, and she won't give him the satisfaction of playing another one of his games, but he doesn't even notice her, because he never really has, has he?

"What's wrong?" James asks quietly. "Cassidy told me everything—"

_That bitch, _Massie thinks to herself, but says, "He's here. Derrick Harrington, he's over there in the corner, sipping punch and wearing the tie that I bought up when we were in the seventh grade, and he's happy. He's really happy." She's mostly telling this to herself, and to reassure herself that it's okay to move on; she can't keep on living life like Derrick's going to come back, because that's just sad and depressing, and Massie Block is not sad and depressing. She's still in love with Derrick Harrington, though; she's not going to deny that, at least not to herself.

"Do you want me to do anything?" James seems sort of awkward in this situation, and Massie almost feels bad for him, because she's going to use him in exactly three seconds when Derrick turns his head; so, she kisses him.

They pull back after a few seconds, but it's long enough for both Dylan and Derrick to turn around, and walk slowly towards them; Derrick looks a little more lazy than Dylan who's standing rigid in front of James who stares at her, and Dylan mumbles primly, "Webster."

"Nice to see you again, Marvil. Have you met Massie Block?" He's a perfect gentlemen, if not anything else, Massie thinks.

The four of them are staring at the ground like it's the most interesting thing in the world; they're studying each others reflections, and Massie thinks that Derrick's looked better, and he simply states that she doesn't look completely hideous. She blushes, even though it's probably some sort of insult with an ulterior motive, and raises his head, and stares him in the eye until he turns away; Massie thinks that it's for the better good.

.

She ends up kissing Derrick after the party, just to make sure that she's made the right decision, but she hasn't, because Massie still know that he tastes bitter like usual, but there's sweetness, a human soul, underneath all of those layers. There has to be. It's the only reason why she used to have stayed with him for so long, to figure out who he really was, to be that girl who really understood Derrick Harrington; but it didn't work then, so it's not going to work now.

James ends up dying in a car accident; Massie was with James in the limo, and there was a crash, and the two of them end up being rushed to the emergency room and she wakes up to the concerned eyes of Derrick Harrington, but all she can think about is James, the loyal friend. "How's James?" She asks, slowly.

The nurse gives her a concerned look, saying in a faux-worried voice, "He lost a lot of blood, sweetie. We're doing everything we can, but_—"_

_._

She ends up being sent home after about a week.

_When you've got nothing, you've got nothing to lose -—_

Chirps and an unusually loud ringtone comes from her cellphone; Massie decides to ignore it, simply because she couldn't bring her stubborn mind to care about anything involving Derrick Harrington and breakups in the middle of the boat because she's long past caring about somebody who brings you out into the middle of the pond of Westchester and tells you that he can't do this anymore — no, after all, falling in love wasn't meant for someone like her.

The phone rings again, and Massie takes a deep breath; she shouldn't be doing this. Nobody's told her that this is the right thing to do, and they would tell her that it wasn't the right thing to do if anybody even knew about the two of them, or what they used to be. "You better make this quick," she presses the green acceptance button, and puts it on speakerphone, lying down on her terribly uncomfortable mattress.

"I'm not feeling well, Mass," his voice is scratchy, and sounds like it's automated, but there's actual emotion, raw emotion pouring out of it, and he sounds like he's in trouble, so, she takes a deep breath and resists the urge to hang up on him.

Massie replies, "What happened, Derrick? Did Dylan leave you?" She laughs a little at the latter of the statements, something that probably wouldn't happen, at least not for a while; after all Dylan had liked Derrick a little too much to finish their short lived relationship so quickly. He doesn't reply, but she can hear the steady sound of his heartbeats which start slowing down, and she hangs up the phone, after saying, "I'm coming, Derrick."

.

She ends up at his apartment building, a lofty little place on the Upper East Side.

The whole place is in ruins, and Derrick's lying on the floor with empty bottles of wine and scotch around the place, a shard of glass held tightly between his fingers, his phone discarded upon a coffee table. His eyes are blinking slowly, and they fall across her, and he takes a deep breath; Massie immediately falls to her knees, and her heart aches, because even though he's ruined her life, she still loves him. She's always loved him, and she always will love Derrick Harrington.

Massie immediately reaches into her Prada purse, for her cellphone, and calls 911 quickly, but then Derrick speaks, "Don't...call them. I don't want to be saved. I did this to myself."

She drops the phone, "Derrick? You're not in the right mind, stay with me, okay? No, Derrick, you can't die on me! I was, I was," she laughs, "—I was supposed to kill you for what you did to me. You and I loved each other in high school, and then you broke my heart."

"No." His voice is more firm, "I just called you," his breath hitches, "I just called you to say goodbye. I'm sorry." And, then he takes a deep breath, and his eyes stay open, staring at a gaping hole in the ceiling, covered up by posters, remnants of a high school utopia, colored by lies and pretenses.

"I love you, Derrick," she mumbles, and Massie waits for the response ("I love you too, Mass") but it never comes. There are flashes of paparazzi let out through the doors and Massie can't accept this. He can't be dead. And Massie's stumbling around the room, about to fall apart when she holds his hand and says, "I love you," and there's never going to be a reply but no, THIS CAN'T BE THE END— but she's the strong girl, not the one who falls in love;

She cries for hours after he's gone, and then takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes.

This is the end.

.

**notes | **i can't write anything happy, can i? hope you like this, rachel, (: please leave a review?


End file.
